Presence
by theslyknave
Summary: Harry has always loved the roof, ever since he'd apparated in a fit of accidental magic. Now that he's on the Hogwarts roof, he finds someone there that he can love as well. SS/HP slash. Two-shot, plus an epilogue.
1. Presence

_Author's Note:_ So, my first fic. I seriously started and finished this in the same night, so it probably sucks. Right now I'm somewhat happy with it, but it came out so much better in my head... oh well. For my first slash fic, I think the slash part came out well, all things considered...

_Disclaimer:_ Oh yes. I am J. K. Rowling. That's why I'm writing a slash fic when there was obviously no hint at all of that in my books... [sarcasm]

**Presence**

The roof.

Ever since that one time when he had been running from Dudley's gang and ended up on the school roof, he had longed to be there again. Where he was high up and no one could hurt him. No one could touch him.

His cupboard had been so small and cramped. Up on the roof, it was wide-open and spacious, offering a veiw of the school playground and parking lot. Even that was better than a dark closet.

Maybe that was why he loved flying so much. He was high in the air, with the Quidditch pitch stretched out below him and a wide sky above, and air whipping his hair back. It was in those moments that he felt free. But nothing could compare to the roof.

As a first year, he had seen the many roofs of Hogwarts. The building was tall, and so to be out on top would offer a much better veiw than from his school building. But he was afraid that if the wind picked up enough, or if he shifted the wrong way, he would fall. The Dursley's hadn't really fed him much, and so he was as thin as a twig. Maybe he might have gained enough weight to try at the end of the year, but he was side tracked by the stone.

His second year, he was thrown directly in to a plot of mysteries, what with Dobby, the hearing voices, and finally the Chamber of Secrets. But it was always at the back of his mind, and whenever he would try to find a way to climb up onto the roof something else would happen.

Third year, he thought he would be expelled, and when that didn't happen he was focused on the dementors, and helping Hagrid with his teaching, and with his troubles with Buckbeak. He met Sirius, who was, to the rest of the world, an escaped, murdering convict. In actuality, he was Harry's godfather, and the drama played out from there.

Fourth year, Harry was shoved headfirst into the tri-wizard tournament, fighing each task for his life, and literally at the graveyard. It was then that he truely realized what Voldemort could do, now that he had a body. Harry was only saved by his wand, and the ghost images of the last people Voldemort killed.

Needless to say, for the past four years, he's been suitably destracted. But this year was different. He wasn't going to let almost being expelled again, or Umbridge, or anything else stop him.

After a few hours of searching, he finally found the perfect spot. In a usually deserted part of the castle on the seventh floor, there was a balcony. Next to that balcony was a stretch of stone wall that had deeps grooves that Harry could use as foot and hand-holds. Climbing carefully, he set himself down on top of the slightly slanted roof, but straight for the most part. The shingles were warm from the sun's touch that day. It was around sunset, and his breath caught at the view.

It was more than what he'd hoped for. The grounds were green, and he could just see the sparkle of the setting sun on the glistening lake. The sky had barely a cloud in it, and the clouds that were there were whispy and unsubstantial. He breathed in and closed his eyes. This was perfect.

He stayed there for two hours, at the very least. The sun had set, and the stars were twinkling merrily, reminding him of Dumbledore's eyes. He'd had to leave then, because Dumbledore wasn't looking at him at all, lately. He seemed to be pretending Harry didn't exist. Negative emotions didn't seem to belong on his roof, and so Harry had left, whispering a silent promise to return. He wasn't sure why he'd said it, but it felt right.

...

Days went by, and Harry found himself back on the roof. But this time something was off. He could feel something different. He frowned, wondering what was wrong. He trusted his instincts. They hadn't been wrong yet.

Okay, well, there was that one time, when he thought Snape was the one after the Stone... and then when he'd thought Malfoy had opened the Chamber... and when he'd thought that Sirius was really a murderer... and when he- Okay, so he's made some mistakes! But the point was, he was _sure_ this time.

It almost felt like someone was watching him.

Startled by this thought, Harry glanced around, scouring the roof for someone else, the grounds, the visible windows, and saw no one. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. He remembered his first year, when he was sneaking to the third floor to get to the stone, and they had ran into Peeves... _"Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you a goulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"_

That sounded slightly ominous. Harry entertained the fact that there could be a ghost up here. No one else had an invisibility cloak, so if someone were up here, he'd see them. He breifly remembered his trip to Grimmauld Place during the summer, recalling the disillusionment charm that had made him feel like someone cracked an egg on his head.

"Hello?" He asked tentatively. He got no response, but he knew that _something _was still there. He stood fo a while, contemplating. Finally he nodded decisively, sitting down in the spot he had before, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"I'm not going to leave, or make you leave." He spoke, quiet as he took in the view. "It's not really any_one's_ roof, after all. We can share." And Harry treated his unseen companion fairly, not trying to figure out what was there, though he did speculate. He didn't try to engage them in conversaion that they clearly wouldn't - or couldn't - take part in. He waited a few seconds after he stood to leave, giving them time to move if they were in his way.

He wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or not, but he could have sworn he'd heard footsteps against shingles, backing away when Harry stood.

...

The visits continued in much the same way, and he always felt _The Presence_, as he'd taken to calling it, there when he was. One afternoon, as Harry sat looking out at Hagrid's hut, having been empty thus far, he spoke.

"You don't have to answer, if you don't want to." Harry said first, not looking away from the cabin, knowing he wouldn't be able to locate the presence even if he did turn around, "But I could use someone to talk to. And you're the closest thing I've got." He finished, with a somewhat wry smile.

He launched into the story of seeing Voldemort return last year, and how Harry's blood had been used, and how scared he felt at the duel. He spoke of the wand beams colliding and Harry seeing his parents. He said that he was sure that Hagrid was gone because of Order buisness, but he didn't know where he was, and he was worried for his first friend.

This prompted a retelling of Harry's rescue from the Dusleys, because for some reason he didn't think he should leave anything out while he spilled his soul to someone, or something, that he didn't know. He couldn't even see them. He told of his first year, with the stone, and his second, with the chamber and how horrible he felt when he'd thought the only people who cared had abandoned him.

And he recalled meeting the people who were closest to his father, and how he heard their deaths when the dementors got a bit too close. He spoke, quietly, of wishing that he had more memories to remember them by, other than their final moments. His voice was broken, but he kept going.

And he told of last year, with Rita Skeeter spurting lies left and right, and of being thrown into the tournament without his consent, scared for himself, and everyone else. He said, quietly, that Ron's abandonment had hurt more than the whole school against him back in second year.

Finally he looked back up to see a night sky, and wondered at the time, and how long he had been speaking. "I need to go... I'll be back."

And he left.

...

When he came back, it was in a grumpy mood, grumbling to the presence about Ron and Hermione, and how they had gotten into _another _fight. The presence was there, and so Harry went off, explaining all their stupid fights, like when Ron thought Crookshanks ate scabbers, and every other pointless row they'd had. And he complained that they should just bloody _snog each other already_ because Harry _knew_ they liked each other. He was tired of getting in the middle of everything.

But then, in a much quieter voice, he confessed that sometimes he didn't want them to get together, because he'd feel awkward and left out like a third wheel, and Harry could see them ignoring him already, lost in each other. They did have years of sexual tension to get out of them, after all.

Harry sighed and looked at the gently swaying trees, and one quite literally in the case of the Whomping Willow.

"I'm sorry." He finally said. "That's really stupid of me; of course we'll still be friends, and it's selfish to want them to not be happy so that I can be." He could feel the presence get closer to him, but Harry didn't try to reach out to see if they were a person or not. He turned his head slightly, in it's general direction.

"Sometimes... I wish that there was someone who loved _me_." He said. "Not Harry _Potter_, the Boy-Who-Lived, not some poster boy who everyone expects to kill Voldemort, but... just Harry." He almost wished he could be 'Just Harry' again, back before he knew the magical world, where he was revered like he was Merlin himself. "I thought... with Cho..."

And he told briefly of his crush on the Ravenclaw, that had begun around third year, but had festered through fourth year and the beginning of this year. "I thought that she..." Harry broke off, not sure how to word his thoughts. "But I don't. Love her, I mean. I thought I did, but... I found out that I couldn't." He didn't elaborate, not even positive what he meant himself.

They sat in the silence for minutes longer, but when the sun disappeared, Harry said that he would be back, and he swept away.

...

"That _hag!_" Harry yelled with frustration, upon getting up to the roof. "She just wants to make my life miserable, doesn't she? That... that vile..."

He visibly calmed himself, and rubbed the words etched into his hand, sluggishly bleeding.

"Just because I said that Voldemort was back... she must know! She has to! And she gives me detention every bloody night. I bet she gets a sick pleasure out of it, that... that..."

He plopped to the ground, pulling his legs to him and wrapping his arm around them. The bleeding arm lay at his side. "I told you about Voldemort coming back. I saw it. How can she expect me to just sit there and take the crap that she's dishing out? She's not even teaching us Defense! Just _theory_." He sneered. "Like that's going to help. What are we going to do if a Death Eater attacks us? _Recite the book_ at them?" He snorted, bitterly.

"Every night, more lines than before. I swear, that blood quill is going to etch through my bone." He frowned at the still-bleeding hand. With his good hand, he tore off some fabric from his robes, wrapping his hand, and tying it in a secure knot.

"I guess I'm good at that, by now. From the Dursleys." He inspected his handiwork. "Would have been better if I'd've cleaned it. Oh well." He grimaced slightly, but shrugged.

He explained the times when he'd have to fix his own wounds, because his aunt didn't miss with the pan that time, and when his cousin shoved him just a little too hard against the wall, and when his uncle would take out too much of his anger on Harry, resulting in Harry re-aligning his own bones for them to heal.

"Now that I think about it," He mused, "I always healed a bit faster than normal. Now I know it was my magic that helped, but I had always been so confused before." He gave a small chuckle. "I remember asking a kid who had broken his arm why he had to wear a cast for a few months. I wondered why his didn't heal in a few days, like mine did. He didn't talk to me after that." Harry said, matter-of-factly. "Of course, no one really did. If they did, they would get beat up by Dudley's gang."

Harry informed the presence of Dudley's 'Harry Hunting', and how he could outrun Dudley, but some of the gang members were not as slow. He told of one of them holding Harry while Dudley punched him, so that he couldn't get away. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never seemed to notice, really." Harry said, almost wistfully. "Not like they would care about me, but I'm sure they would have praised 'their darling Dinky-dums." Harry smirked at the nickname, feeling the presence right beside him.

There was a small swish of air as they sat down, inches away from himself. Once again, Harry did not reach out to touch them. But he did feel a hand ghosting on his shoulder, there, but applying next to no pressure. Harry smiled, a genuine one, not the fake one he'd been throwing around lately. "Thank you."

That night, he stayed longer than he should have.

...

A troubled Harry returned the very next day, only to find a bowl of murtlap essence on his spot on the roof. The presence was there, sitting on the other side of the bowl. Harry knew that only he and the presence came up here, and so Harry thanked them and sat down, placing his bleeding hand in the substance, breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized how much it was hurting until that hurt was taken away.

The hand was back on his shoulder. "Did you make this?" He asked softly. There was a soft squeeze, that Harry assumed meant yes. "Then I guess you're alive, and not a ghost." He heard the sound of slient laughter, and Harry grinned too. He looked back down at the bowl.

"Why are you always here?" Harry wondered. "I'm sure you have much better things to do than listen to me rant and spill my life story." The hand was still, unsure of how to respond. "Why are you invisible? Are you someone I wouldn't like?" The hand sqeezed once for yes. Harry thought about this for a while.

"You're always here. You offer your support for what I'm going through. You always listen. You're here." Harry closed his eyes, shutting out the image of the grounds. "If I don't like you now, than who you are here is probably more than enough to erase the dislike. Unless, of course, you're Voldemort." The hand squeezed twice for no. "Well, good. Let's see... who do I not like... Umbridge?" No. "Didn't think so. Hmm... I guess you're a slytherin, right?" One sqeeze. Harry nodded. "I don't dislike all slytherins, you know. Just Malfoy, and possibly his two cronies, but I don't think they're really all that bad. They just do what Malfoy tells them to do."

"You're not Malfoy, are you?" Two squeezes. "Phew. If you were, I guess you'd be offended, so I'm glad." He frowned. "I guess you have a reason to be invisible. But I want you to tell me who you are, someday. You don't have to now." Yes. Harry released his legs, letting them dangle over the side. He pulled the essence of murtlap with him as he laid down on the roof, his free hand under his head. He looked up at the twilight, releasing a contented sigh.

Almost hesitantly, Harry felt the presence follow, laying down next to him. "I'm glad you're here." He whispered, and then stayed in silence until he left, once again promising his return.

...

Something was wrong again. Harry almost couldn't place it, until he realised that the presence was not there. He frowned. The presence had shown up every time Harry had been there, barring the first time. He couldn't help but think that something was wrong.

He stayed up on the roof, studying the sky as it transformed from late afternoon, to cold winter night. He didn't leave at all that night, waking up the next morning with a backache and a cold. There was no school that day, and so he stayed outside, shivering and sneezing and trying to ignore that he should probably get inside.

He stayed like that until it was time again for him to come, and finally, _finally _he felt the presence return. Harry was shivering violently, teeth chattering together, but his face still lit up. "Yo-you-you're ba-back." He said, through his shudders. He smiled, showing off his teeth which were clattering together. There was an audible gasp, and the presence rushed over, feeling the cold of Harry's skin, and taking in the blue of his lips. A push on Harry's shoulder prompted him into explaining.

"Y-you were-en't here. I wa-waited." Harry's eyes closed. "But Y-you're back, no-ow." Harry was much too out of it to feel the presence picking him up, rushing him to the hospital wing. Harry could only feel the warmth. "S-so warm... Cold out the-there."

Harry could feel the presence there, even as he slipped into unconciousness in the hospital wing bed, that seemed to be reserved just for him.

The presence was still there, when Harry woke up the next day, almost dying under multiple heating charms and under a mountain of blankets. He threw them off, aware of his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned his attention to the presence, which he could feel sitting on the bed next to his. They drew up a chair to sit closer.

"Where were you?" Harry murmured. "You're always there. You weren't yesterday." Harry was upset. The presence was one of the only steady things he could count on in his life. The almost daily roof meetings were his only break. They both knew this, but neither voiced it aloud. Especially the presence who never said anything anyway.

The presence did nothing for a few moments, but then his hand came out and touched Harry's shoulder, reassuring. Harry didn't know who was reassuring who, though.

...

It was a teary Harry who met the presence up on the roof. Since the overnight stay up here of Harry's, the presence was always there. Harry was glad, because he needed someone to talk to. Tears streamed down his face, and he made no effort to wipe them away.

"When you try to suppress your tears, it only hurts more." Explained Harry, with his voice shaking only slightly. He curled himself into a ball as he usually did, and he felt the presence wrap steady arms around him. Harry leaned back into their chest, closing his eyes, but the tears still appeared out from under them. He looked tired and upset.

"It's Ron." Harry began, with his eyes still closed. "He... he... I told him..."

Harry had a big red mark on his face that was bleeding slightly.

"Just because I'm..." He couldn't get the words out. He struggled with them for a while. "He freaked out. Punched me. Because I'm gay. I told him." His answers were choppy, and he suddenly let out a sob before placing his head in his folded arms resting on his knees. The arms around him stiffened, and then seemed to relax.

"Are you disgusted with me?" There were two firm squeezes. No. "That's... that's what Ron said. That he was disgusted with me. That I was a poof. A fairy, a fag, every word in the book!" Harry let out another sob, and he felt the arms stiffen again, though this time in anger. Protectiveness. "He... he called me a pervert. Said... said that I was a fag all along, and that I didn't tell because I liked watching them change for Quidditch, and in the showers, and none of that is true! I just found out... with Cho... it wasn't right. That's when I realized..."

Harry half turned and burying himself in the invisible body behind him. "And he punched me." Harry said in a muffled whisper. "I didn't do anything. I couldn't. He's my best mate... or, was. But... everyone saw." Harry said brokenly. "And I don't know if 'Mione... she heard, and saw, and I didn't wait to hear what she would say... I bolted."

As far as he knew, homosexuals were still widely unaccepted in the muggle world, and with Hermione's muggle background... he just didn't know anymore.

"I thought I could trust them. But now... I regret saying anything." A third sob, and He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his robe. "I'm sorry for crying all over you..." Harry apologized, and moved to pull away, when the presence just held him tighter. Harry allowed a small smile to grace his face, before letting his head fall on a comforting shoulder, drifting into a light sleep, where he wasn't sure if he had really ever slept at all. But next thing he knew, he was being shaken slightly by an invisible hand.

It was night. Harry looked around, for a split second wondering where he was before seeing the shingles he laid on. He grinned, and gave his thanks to them, but he and the presence knew who he was talking to. Harry was embraced again, snd Harry noticed for perhaps the first time how tall the presence was.

...

"When I graduate," Harry began, upon entering, "I don't want to be an auror." He settled down on the shingles, being embraced by the presence from behind. Harry knew enough by now to feel that he was curious.

"Maybe once I had wanted to be one, but I don't think I'll want to do much of that when Voldemort's dead." He said this with certainty, not pausing to think about the alternitive.

"Another option is playing professional Quidditch. But I don't think I want to do that either." He loved Quidditch, really, but he couldn't see himself doing it for a living. Quidditch was for fun, for freedom, not profit.

"I think that I want to be a professor. At Hogwarts." He took a deep breath of the familiar air around him. "This is the only real home I've ever known. I can't imagine leaving. I'll be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I'll be five times the teacher Umbridge is." He said firmly, and the presence hummed in agreement, one of the few noises he made.

Harry was quiet for a few moments. Then his face broke out into a wide smile. "Snape is going to hate me." And Harry laughed along with a silently shaking presence, his version of laughter.

They sat in contented silence for a long time. Harry felt more comfortable around him than he did with Ron and Hermione. Ron it was to be expected, he hadn't said one word to Harry since... the incident. And Hermione was awkward around him, as though unsure of how to act. Harry knew she was in love with Ron, and Ron's utter rejection of Harry was pulling her in two seperate directions. She had made it clear that she still wanted to be Harry's friend, but it was never the same easy friendship that it once was.

There was one problem. While he was this comfortable around the presence, he didn't want it to be a friendship kind of comfortable. He... he wanted... he wasn't sure what he wanted.

While the presence had comforted him through the incident with Ron, Harry had no idea if he was accepted. Maybe the presence just hadn't said anything. Maybe he was secretly disgusted. Maybe he was only here to learn Harry's secrets.

The presence placed his head on Harry's hair, and Harry heard him breathe in deeply, as though Harry's very scent was an anchor to life. He suddenly felt horrible for even thinking that the presence was here to spy on him, Harry settled further into his embrace, sighing contentedly.

He knew what he wanted. But did the presence want him back?

...

Was it possible to love someone, when you didn't know who they were?

"Will you show me who you are now?" Harry asked quietly, not wanting to push him. Harry hadn't said much when he'd arrived today. He'd sat down, and the presence sat down behind him, keeping Harry close in his arms, as always. They were quiet for a while, as Harry tried to word his question. Unfortunately, there was no way to subtly bring it up. He'd have to be upfront.

The presence hesitated, and Harry knew he wanted to show him, but was afraid that Harry wouldn't like who he saw. "It's okay." Harry said moments later of indecision. "You don't have to."

He was relieved, but Harry could tell that the barely hidden disappointment in Harry's voice was weighing on his mind. Harry placed a hand on his knee, though he missed at first.

Gradually, the sky turned darker, and Harry wished he could stay longer, but he knew he had to leave. Harry turned as he stood, the presence rising with him. Harry's hand found his chest, and trailed upward until he reached the other's jaw. Standing on tiptoes, Harry brushed his lips against the presence's, and left in the next second.

...

Harry was worried as he climbed the wall to get to the roof. He wasn't sure how his kiss would be recieved. He felt him there already, but how would he react? Maybe the presence had wanted to remain friends, but Harry needed to make his intentions known. He wouldn't go lusting after someone who was just his friend. He would rather the presence leave then not love him back. Though, Harry knew he would fall apart either way.

Calming his frayed nerves, his head poked above the roof, and the rest of his body followed. He was soon embraced by the presence, and Harry couldn't help wondering if it would be thier last. Presence pulled him away slightly, but still held him in place. After a breif moment of hesitation, Harry felt a pair of lips against his own. Harry gasped before returning the kiss, soft and gentle. Their bodies, Harry's being smaller and thin, and the presence's being taller and lean, fit against the other perfectly.

They broke apart for air, but quickly melded lips together once more, and this time it was harder, stronger, and more urgent, desperate. Harry couldn't help but moan as a hot, wet tongue slid along his lower lip, allowing it entrance. They explored each other with reverance, and when they finally came apart, Harry's cheeks were flushed, his lips red, and his hair was dishevelled from hands that had slid through the ebony locks. Harry's own hands were on the presence's hip and back, drawing him closer.

The presence touched Harry's lips a final time with his own, and backed away a few steps, turning around. A wave of his wand and the disillusionment charm dissolved. A dark cloak was all Harry could see, and the hood was up over his head. He wasn't just _The Presence _anymore. He was a person. Harry held his breath.

The person seemed to be convincing himself to turn around. Finally, he did so, letting his hood fall, and letting the setting sunlight fall on the sallow and pale face of everyone's least favorite greasy potions professor; Severus Snape.

Harry was frozen in place, taking in the long dark hair, and the onyx eyes, searching his own face. Harry could see his not-so-well-hidden fear, that showed that he was afraid of what Harry would say. He was preparing to be rejected. Scorned. Deserted. Harry entertained the idea. _I wouldn't like you indeed. _He thought, almost amusedly. There was no way Snape would be winning Witch Weekly's most charming smile award, but he had his own sort of grace, that Harry had secretly admired for a while.

And then he took in the fact that Snape has been here, listening to him, comforting him, holding him, kissing him. Harry felt warmed at the thought. _So the unaproachable professor has emotions after all_. He couldn't help it. His face slid into a bemused smile. "Well. That was a shock." He let a teasing note fall into his voice, taking deliberate steps to the professor.

Harry took in every detail of the man he hadn't seen before now. Well, seen, but not _really_ seen. Severus (because it seemed wrong to call him anything but) looked disbelieving, as though still expecting to be thrown away. As if Harry was pretending to like him just to crush his hopes at the last moment. _Really. How cruel does he think I am?_ He reached him, raising on tiptoes, putting both hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes. Severus saw the truth there, and Harry kissed him again, not his presence, but Severus Snape, greasy hair and all.

"Harry." He said hoarsly, barely daring to believe it.

"Severus." The boy returned, smiling softly. "I still love you. Nothing can change that. Not even knowing who you are." He said, smirking.

Severus kissed him again, not even needing to return the words. Harry felt it.

Hours later they were still there, Harry in Severus' arms, leaning against the man's chest. Both were looking out on the grounds.

Suddenly, Harry began to laugh, breifly startling Severus. "It's no wonder!" Harry finally managed, looking at him with sparkling eyes. "I was wondering why you weren't being as cruel to me as usual in classes, and here's my answer."

Severus rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress the upturn on his lips.

"Yes, well, don't expect that to continue. I have a reputaion to uphold." He said it in his usual drawling way - Severus had made his sarcastic personality quite clear hours ago - but they both knew he was gently teasing. Harry laughed, and it was contagious, for Severus even laughed along.

It wasn't just the roof anymore. It was _their_ roof.

_Author's Note: _Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know. If you see any spelling/grammatical errors, let me know of that, too. I think I'm going to have one more chapter, but in Severus' point of view. What do you think?

Also, if it seems like the romance is moving too fast, keep in mind that the meetings that I write can be days, weeks, even months apart. The timeline starts a few days after the beginning of Harry's fifth year, and ends a month and a half or so from the end. The time when Severus didn't come was around winter break. I might have changed a few things from canon, but know that the episode in the Department of Mysteries never happened. That is all.


	2. Substance

_Author's Note:_ Hello, world! No, I'm not dead, and I really am sorry this wasn't out sooner. I worked on it a little at a time, for far little time, during times that were greatly spaced out. But it's here now. Taa daa!

Also, chapter one was used a lot as a reference point, so if you haven't read it in a while, you may want to hit the back button and refresh your memory. There is little talking until the end, with Severus' thoughts making up for conversation. His thoughts reference to Harry's monologing in the previous chapter, so again, revisit if you've forgotten anything.

And yes, you read right- this is Severus' point of view. Yay! I must say I think my Severus leaves something to be desired, but hopefully I'll improve on his point of view. Our sense of humor is closely related though, so I tried to add that in wherever possible. Now you get to read my pitiful attempts at being funny using the mind of a cynical man. Yay you!

_Disclaimer_: I am simply the puppet master, manipulating JKR's characters much like a Dumbledore of real life. Don't look too close, you'll see the strings connected to the limbs of the characters... dance, puppets! Dance!

**Substance**

"Five points from Gryffindor for loitering in the hallways, Jordan!" He snapped at the seventh year accomplice to the Weasley Twins, watching him scurry away before he lost any more points.

For once, Severus Snape was having a good day. He'd bragged to Minerva about the new recruits for Slytherin's quidditch team, he'd given out two detentions, taken twenty-five points total from Gryffindor house, and Albus hadn't offered him a lemon drop _once_. It had been a satisfying and productive day. Now, the only thing that would make it better would be if he got Potter for something.

_Speak of the devil_... he thought, as he backpedaled to look out the window, only to see Gryffindor's Golden Boy sitting out on the roof across from the turret Severus was in. What was the insufferable brat doing now? No doubt breaking the rules, once again.

Unfortunately, Severus didn't think there was anything in the rules that didn't allow the students to climb up onto the roof. He scowled. Well, he'd find something to pin on the boy.

He crossed to the other side of the castle, disillusioning himself and standing out on the balcony, waiting to hear or see anything that he could use to get Potter in trouble. Nothing happened for the longest time, and Severus was glancing at his watch to see if he could get Potter for being out after curfew, when he heard him say softly, "I'll be back."

And then a very distracted looking Potter had climbed down off the roof, passed Severus on the balcony, and left. Frowning, Severus followed the boy's steps in reverse, climbing up to the roof to see what was up there. There was nothing. Just a bunch of dark grey shingles clinging to an almost-flat roof. He turned, and if he was any other man, his breath would have hitched at the sight of Hogwart's grounds at night, with the gently swaying grasses that rippled like a dark green sea, and the lake reflecting the twinkling night sky back at him. But he was Severus Snape, and so he simply admired the picture for a few moments before returning to his previous thoughts.

If Potter was coming back, he could always find away to get the boy in trouble. He knew it was an act that he put on the the rest of the school; the sweet, innocent golden boy. Severus knew in actuality, that he was just as conceited as his father, and that the boy loved attention, and he could break the rules just because he was 'Harry Potter'.

Making a quick decision, he cast a spell on the balcony, that would alert him to when Potter arrives. a portkey was fashioned out of a spare quill he kept on his person at all times, just in case. Nodding decisively, he left, prepared to catch Potter at... _something_ whenever he came back.

...

An alarm went off in Severus' head. To any normal person, this would be a cause of concern, but the man grinned, something terrifying, and had anyone been present they probably would have screamed and ran for their lives. A long-fingered, pale hand reached towards an inconspicuous brown quill, and Severus was standing out on the roof just as Potter's head of messy black hair popped over the side of the roof.

Severus could tell almost immediately that Potter knew something was different. The boy tensed up and looked around, even tried calling out a tentative hello, but if Potter thought he would be answering then he was sorely mistaken. Severus watched for a few moments as he thought, and Severus thought that the boy would either leave, or demand that he show himself.

Surprisingly, he did neither, simply sitting and saying that they could share the roof. Severus frowned again. Potter was just putting on his act. He wouldn't want to show his true self to him when he knew he was there, and especially when he didn't know who he was. But the frown remained, because for an odd reason, that didn't sound quite right.

They sat (technecally, Potter sat, while Severus stood) out there for a while, and soon he got bored with the view and so he watched Potter instead. What was the boy thinking? Why did he come up here? Why wasn't he trying to figure out who he was 'sharing' the roof with? So many questions that he couldn't ask. If he wanted to catch Potter at something, he'd have to remain incognito. Of course, he wasn't going to do anything, now that he knew someone was here, but...

But something made him stay.

And at the end of an extremely long period of time, just after the sun's disappearence, when Potter stood up to leave, Severus realized a bit too late that he'd been drifing closer to the boy. He backed up quickly, and saw what might have been a grin as he left.

...

Severus continued to return. Each time, he grew more doubtful of finding something to pin on the boy, yet he still came back. Sometimes Potter would be silent, saying only a quiet hello and goodbye, and sometimes he would express simple things that were on his mind. Severus wasn't sure which days he - begrudgingly (or so he told himself) - _liked_ more.

After a while, there came a day when Potter didn't greet him. He looked distracted, preoccupied. When he finally spoke, it was to say that he needed a pair of ears to listen. Severus took an instinctive step forward. Something was telling him this would be important.

Though he thought Potter a fool for divulging this information with someone he didn't even know, he listened carefully, hearing a retelling of the Dark Lord's return. He had been told before by Lucius Malfoy, but never in such detail. He would twitch slightly whenever Potter said the name. He almost wished that he could as well, but cowardice prevented this.

He was - dare he even think it? - _touched_ by the boy's caring and worry over the half giant, Hagrid. While the two were not close, Severus respected his knowledge of magical and non-magical creatures and of the forest. Often they would go together into the forest, so that Hagrid could watch his back and direct him to the plants and herbs that Severus could use in his potions. He knew that Hagrid was off seeing if he could persuade the giants to join the light, but with Potter's reminder, he suddenly felt a twinge of worry for him.

Severus was surprised to note that Hagrid was the boy's first friend, and was actually _angry_ at Potter's muggle relatives for their treatment of him. It was a far cry from Potter, the Pampered Prince that he had imagined. Suddenly, the boy's thinness and slight hight deficiency made more sense.

He was treated to Harry Potter's life story, but it wasn't including the details Severus thought Potter might brag about. In his first year, he told of making two friends, and feeling like he belonged. He touched only briefly on the stone. In his second year, he spoke about the school's abandonment, and how he felt he had lost everyone. He admitted that he was scared and horrified and worried down in the chamber, for both his and the Weasley girls' lives.

An involuntary shudder went down his spine at what Potter heard when Dementors drew near. He couldn't bring a sneer to his face when he heard of Potter meeting Lupin and Black. Not now. Not here.

And Potter didn't brag of being a champion in the tournament the year previous. He said instead of being afraid, and of being hurt by the brief abandonment of the youngest Weasley male.

Potter glanced up at the sky, and Severus followed his gaze, wondering when it had gotten so late. He promised to come back. Severus would hold him to that.

...

It was a grumpy and disgruntled Potter who greeted him, wasting no time in beginning his rant. Severus found himself shaking his head at the petty rows of teenagers, and then trying to contain a bout of spontanious laughter - laughter? What is this thing you call, _laughter? _- when the words _they should just bloody snog each other already _came out of Potter's mouth, in the same breath as _just jealous that he can beat her at chess._

It was also ironic that the youngest Weasley could beat Granger, supposedly smartest in the year, at an intellectual and strategic game.

Potter was making his minimal emotions a roller coaster, because just after trying to hold in laughter for the first time in a long time, his heart - he supposed this proved he had one... - went out to him, as he confessed that he would feel left out, a third wheel, and then _apologized_ for feeling that way. Severus took a few steps closer, for some reason thinking it wrong that the boy would feel bad for experiencing a common feeling and emotion.

He was greeted with a side-view of Potter's face, vibrant green eyes dipped down to the shingles, full pink lips parted to quietly reveal his longing, his wish, that someone would see him. Not Harry Potter, but just Harry. '_Just_ Harry'. His exact words. They sounded wrong. Someone like Har- Potter, shouldn't be _just_. He was more than Severus had imagined, layers upon layers. Circles within circles.

And then he brought up the Chang girl. He burned with an emotion that felt familiar... what was it? He repressed his emotions too much to know. Anger? No... it was close... sadness? Not quite. A mixture of both? He tried to push it away, but it stayed in the back of his mind, sitting there.

The emotion abated when H- Potter explained that he couldn't love her. What did that mean, though? For both the emotion and for Ha- _Potter_?

They sat in silence for a while longer, before Harry - _POTTER_, dammit! - promised to be back.

...

Severus was there as a furious Harry Potter climbed up onto the roof from the balcony, sounding too mad to put the correct words together. Severus could think of only one 'she' that could cause this state. Minerva had been complaining in the staff room - to the Headmaster and the heads of houses - about the boy's numerous detentions with Dolores Umbridge.

Severus hated that woman. While he was mean, unfair, rude, and sometimes a bit cruel to the student population, he did not terrorise them. He did not control thier lives, or what they said, or what they did. Umbridge did all of those things, and more. Also, the woman's ignorance and devotion to Fudge made her blind.

On top of all this, the only thing the woman wore was pink. Such a putrid color. It was a loud and bright pink, too, not even a soft pink, like Harry's lips... wait, what?

He tried to focus more on Harry's ranting, and his suspicions were confirmed when the boy said something about detentions.

Severus didn't even notice anything was wrong, until his posture differed. Harry usually sat curled up into a ball, with the tips of his shoes haning over the edge of the roof. It was the same, safe for one arm was excluded. It was covered in a sticky red substance. _Blood. The hell?_ He thought, suspicious.

He was too preoccupied staring at Harry's hand to register the bitter joke about Umbridge's teaching. His question was soon answered. "Every night, more lines than before. I swear, that blood quill is going to etch through my bone."Lines. Blood quill. Bone.

That. Hag.

Severus drew closer, looking at the boy's hand. Beneath a red splattering of blood, he could make out an infected scar. _I must not tell lies._

He was going to kill her. He would kill her with his own two hands, that way no one would trace the killing curse back to his wand. A blood quill? How in the seven bloody hells had she gotten one? They were all supposed to be destroyed, _and_ illegal! He would get her for this, oh, would he get her.

He wondered if Harry was the only one she was abusing. Then he decided it wouldn't matter.

Since when was he so protective of Harry, of all people?

... Since when did he call the boy _Harry?_

He was loosing his mind. That was the only explanation.

But the worst part was, Harry didn't even seem concerned at the blood flow. He tore off some fabric of the black robes he wore with ease, and fitted it around his hand, able to tie a secure knot with one hand. He had done this before. He had practice.

Harry admitted that himself, seconds later. Severus saw red at the end, adding the three muggles to his _list._ _The _list.

Harry's cousin was the favorited one. He bullied others into ignoring Harry. Harry was shoved in a cupboard. The uncle was violent. The aunt turned a blind eye to this, and was best at verbally abusing. Oh yes. They were on his _list_.

The wistful tone his voice took towards the end, made Severus realise the only thing Harry really wanted was a family who cared. That must be why he was so cluse to his friends and the Weasleys. A surrogate family.

He didn't know what made him do it, but like the other times, it felt right to sit down as well, and he saw Harry from a whole new perspective. A closer perspective. Harry's eyes, the vibrant emerald green, looked different up close. Around the pupil and the edge of the iris, it was a slightly darker green, a shade different from forest green, fading seamlessly into the emerald and finally in the very middle, a green so bright and vibrant that Severus immediately thought of the killing curse.

He really was loosing it, wasn't he?

He remembered the real reason for sitting down. To offer comfort. Now, Severus Snape was not good at comfort. He doubted he's ever really _comforted_ someone in his life. He may go as far to say that his 'people skills' left something to be desired. But when Severus let his hand glide up to Harry's shoulder, it felt right. Like that shoulder was perfectly moulded for his hand. Or the other way around.

He was rewarded greatly. Harry turned his head and smiled brightly, a true smile, that made Harry's eyes light up and crinkle at the corners. Severus decided he liked that smile.

That night, he stayed longer than he should have.

...

It was official. He had gone insane.

The very next day, he had brought a bowl of murtlap essence for the boy. Since when did he care about Harry? Probably around the time when he had started referring to him as 'Harry', but it was a loosing battle to try and call the boy by his last name, in his mind, anyway.

But he decided it was worth it, when Harry smiled again and thanked him for it, sitting and putting his hand in the bowl, the only thing between them. Severus watched as the mixture turned pink with blood.

Severus couldn't stop himself from touching Harry again, even if it was only a hand on his shoulder. He was asked if he made it. Severus quickly developed a system; one squeeze for yes, two for no. He implimented this, only to expell air in a silent chuckle at Harry's response. No, he was most definately not a ghost. He wondered if the boy had honestly thought so.

This was followed by a conversation of sorts, beginning with a question Severus didn't really know himself, followed by multiple questions about his identity - Umbridge? Really? - and ending with a promise to reveal himself one day. Severus had almost said no, but the hope in Harry's voice had prompted otherwise. Of course, he wasn't planning on telling any time soon. Perhaps on his death bed.

Severus was surprised to note that Harry didn't really hate all Slytherins. While he was slightly biased, Severus didn't think that being Slytherin constituted being evil or being shunned by three fourths of the wizarding world.

It was a rational way to look at things, and Severus was impressed and - pleased? - that Harry shared the same views.

It got late, and the starry sky was perfect in it's clearness. Harry released a sigh and laid down, one arm under his head, the other hand still in the murky essence of murtlap. Severus hesitantly followed, mirroring his motions, but instead with both hands behind his head. His eyes didn't exactly stay on the stars, though.

"I'm glad you're here." Severus was glad he was there, too.

...

It was winter break, and since the Dark Lord did not want to pull Severus away from his duties as head of Slytherin house and Potions professor - and probably just wanted a mass of dirt and information on Dumbledore and the Order at once - had called Severus away. It was during a meeting that the alarm in his head went off. He had been dreading this.

_Harry Potter, you have the worst timing ever._

He couldn't leave, though. He waited out the alarm, which faded as soon as Harry left the balcony, meaning he was up on the roof. He was expecting to hear it in a few minute's time, when the boy left through the balcony when he discovered Severus was not there. This was not the case.

He got steadily more worried and distracted, until finally the meeting was over, and the Dark Lord insisted that he stay at base for the night, sure that Severus was over-working himself. He wasn't being nice. He was insuring the survival of his most valuable spy.

Severus couldn't very well leave, not when the Dark Lord implored that you stay. He couldn't sleep for worry, but he made sure that in the morning, he looked well-rested and recovered. The Dark Lord still didn't allow him leave, instead setting him to work on a potion. He couldn't even tell what it was, he was so distracted, but he followed the instructions to the letter, handing the finished potion to his Lord. He was finally allowed to leave. He flooed to his chambers, slammed his hand down on the quill on his desk, and was on the roof.

There was Harry, curled up in a ball on the snow-covered roof, shivering violently. Blue lips revealing chattering teeth somehow spit out the words, "You're back." Severus couldn't contain his gasp as he practically flew to Harry's side, feeling his ice-cold face as the multi-green colored eyes opened and tried to see him.

Severus pushed on the boy's shoulder, perhaps harder than he should have in his worry, prompting him into explaining. _Harry waited for me._ The thought would have filled him with another one of those unidentifiable emotions, had he not been out of his mind with fright for the already fragile boy.

He picked Harry up with ease, carrying him under his upper back and neck, and under his legs, rushing to the hospital wing. Harry was out like a light, snuggling into the warmth, and therefore Severus, subconciously. An odd but somewhat pleasant feeling filled him, and he set the boy down on a hospital bed, and sat back, still invisible, to see Pomfrey coming out of her office, gasping when she saw Harry.

He stayed there as she poured Pepper-Up potion down his throat, cast multiple heating charms, and piled blankets high on the shivering frame. He stayed as the shivering stopped, as night fell, and then as dawn broke, not having slept a wink in two days.

Harry suddenly gasped and threw off the blankets, sweat plastering black hair to his head, legs spread slightly, and panting heavily. Severus' mind was just as suddenly filled with numerous inappropriate thoughts.

_What is happening to me?_

He pushed those thoughts away, and drew up a chair to sit closer to the boy.

_A boy, that's all he is. You'd be a pedophile, Severus. He'd never be interested in the greasy potions professor. _

With those reasurring thoughts, he focused on Harry's question, and mostly the upset tone to his voice. He couldn't continue to hurt Harry. But if he didn't show up, this would happen again. What if next time, Harry stayed out there longer, and died of the cold, or starvation? But, surely the boy had some form of self-preservation? He looked at the pleading expression on the boy's face. Severus knew the roof was an escape of sorts. He knew Harry viewed him as a _friend_.

Severus laid his hand on Harry's shoulder, and it fit like it belonged there. It was supposed to be reassuring, but was Severus reassuring himself that Harry was safe, or was he reassuring Harry that he would return?

...

It was with a hot surge of anger that Severus realized Harry was crying upon his arrival to the roof. Since winter break, he had come to terms with his Harry problem. He had figured it out. The reason he continued to return. The reason he stopped trying to get the boy in trouble - since they had stayed out well past curfew quite a few times, now - and the reason his dreams were filled with a certain messy-haired, green-eyed boy... man? He had learned that Harry had to grow up quickly. The weight of the wizarding world was not a burden for a child. Even before Harry came to Hogwarts, he had to learn the hard way early on about the harshness of the world.

Severus doubted Harry had ever been a mere boy or child.

It didn't make Severus' problem any more right, however. Morally, this was wrong. But Severus was not a good person - or so he told himself - and so he couldn't do the right thing and stop.

So it was with a perfectly justifiable anger that Severus saw the pearly, opaque tears sliding slowly down Harry's face, mingling with a bloody cut on his lower cheek bordering his jaw-line. The area around was red. Someone had hit him.

"When you try to suppress your tears, it only hurts more." Harry explained, sitting in his usual spot and curling up into a ball. Without a thought, Severus sat down behind him and wrapped his arms around him from behind, pulling the slightly shaking frame to his chest. If he had a heart, it would be aching slightly for the young man who had probably never been held when he cried before.

Like his actions before, this felt _right_, but in his mind where a corner of rational thought remained, he knew this was oh-so-wrong.

He couldn't help but feel elated when Harry relaxed in his arms. He had been tense. Lids came down over multi-green colored eyes, but the salt-water tears still managed to escape.

When Harry spoke again, it was with great effort to keep his voice from shaking. He struggled to find the right words, and when he did his sentences were choppy and his voice was closed-off. _Weasley._ Was Severus' first thought. _He's on the _list.

"He freaked out. Punched me. Because I'm gay."

Severus stiffened as Harry curled up even tighter into himself. _Gay?_ He thought, numbly. Harry Potter, Golden Boy of Gryffindor, Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World was _gay?_ He could imagine the newpaper titles if the press ever found out. A part of him was jumping for joy, if anything inside Severus Snape could ever _jump_, much less for _joy_, of all things. He would admit to his heart skipping, and his arms relaxing, but he would never admit to feeling _joy._

But he listened silently, ignoring his messed up and immoral emotions and thoughts, acting like a person _should._ He made it clear that he was definately not disgusted with Harry, and when he heard Weasley had said so, he decided then and there to make his life torturous. When he heard Harry desperately shouting the offensive and derogatory names Weasley had called him, he decided to destroy the little brat. When Harry said Weasley had called him a pervert, and the speech after, he decided that there wasn't a chance in hell the bastard was going to survive.

While he appreciated Harry not getting into trouble by hitting Weasley back, he thought it was downright idiotic that he wouldn't because they _used to be _friends. A betrayal of that nature broke a friendship, stomped on it, ripped it into tiny peices, and put it through a shreder. It was over. Done.

And then Harry had the nerve to apologize! It wasn't him who needed to apologize, oh no. Harry moved to turn away, but Severus just held him tighter. Harry belonged in his arms, and Severus wasn't letting him get away so easily. He was sure he had seen a smile on Harry's face, before he drifed off, perfectly at ease in _his_ arms. Severus wondered how this could be, before remembering that Harry didn't know who he was.

He spent over an hour watching the Gryffindor sleep, allowing wishes and hopes fill his mind, of Harry falling asleep in his arms, knowing who he was, and perfectly happy. He wished there was a day when Harry would be happy. He wished...

When had he become such a sap?

_Probably around the time you fell for him. _A voice piped up helpfully in his mind.

He shook Harry awake, watching him blink around blearily before focusing on the shingles. Severus accepted his thanks, helped him up, and embraced him, trying to convey a lot of things, before letting go.

...

Harry began speaking right away as he got to the roof, as if he'd had this on his mind for a while. It had become custom for Severus to sit behind Harry and put his arms around the youth, pulling him to his chest. Severus did so immediately, holding himself in a certain way to let Harry know he was curious.

So, the golden boy didn't want to be an auror? He knew Harry enough by now to know there was more to him than met the eye, but he had thought he was dead-set on being a dark-wizard catcher. He should have known he was wrong.

He listened to Harry's reasoning, knowing that the words "When Voldemort's dead," was not cockyness; the young man just couldn't even consider the alternitive. Severus didn't like to either.

He was surprised as well to Harry's admission that he wouldn't want to be a professional quidditch player. Any team would sign him up in a heartbeat, if they didn't already know what a good player he was. Also, professional players were in the media all the time. Harry would be in the paper every day, for being both a quidditch star and the Boy-Who-Lived. He knew now that Harry didn't like the publicity. So, he supposed it made sense.

Harry... a professor. He could see it. As one of Harry's professors, he knew all his grades, and Defense was his best subject. It was a good choice. And if the fact that he was glad Harry would be staying as a teacher, assuring that Severus would see him at least once a day had any sway in his liking for Harry's chosen career, well...

He had to agree with Harry in his opinion that he'd be five times the teacher Umbridge is. Perhaps ten. _Quirrel_ was at _least_ five times better, and he'd had a fake speech impediment and Voldemort growing out of his head! _Lockhart_ would only be three times better; but only because he _had_ come up with the duelling club, giving Harry his favorite spell - _Expelliarmus_, along with the life lesson of never trusting a word the conceited man said, after all.

Suddenly Harry smiled, and Severus had to laugh - silently, of course - of Harry's opinion that he would hate him. He knew all the students thought he was out for the Defense position, but that was only as a cover in case any students with Death Eater families reported that it didn't seem like Severus wanted to sway impressionable children to the Dark by subtly teaching them Dark Arts. But most of the time he was just suspicious of them, or had a personal vendetta. He was really quite happy with Potions.

They were perfectly happy to sit in silence, and Severus watched as Harry thought. It was troubled thought, however, and so he lended his support by placing his cheek on the black mop of hair, inhaling Harry's 'just after the rain' smell. He held Harry tighter as he relaxed, letting out his breath the same time Harry sighed. They were content.

...

The sky was cloudy. Brooding, perhaps. Severus hadn't even waited for the alarm to go off; their meetings had been going almost daily for a while now. And, even if Harry didn't arrive, it was nice to come up here, to think. He understood the allure of the roof that Harry had spoken of once.

Harry had seemed out of it... hesitant even, upon arrival to the roof. This contined for a while, and just when Severus thought it was going to be one of those non-talking days, Harry broached the topic softly.

"Will you show me who you are now?"

Oh, how those simple words played havoc with the man's thoughts.

He had been serious when he'd planned on telling Harry on his deathbed, if at all. Yet, he was tired of hiding. Tired of pretending he was on the Dark Side around Voldemort, tired of going on raids and knowing his potions were being used to hurt people.

Deep down, he wanted Harry to know who _he_ was, to see if he and Harry... if they could ever... He was tired of being invisible.

Dear gods, he was being infected by Gryffindorishness. And what was worse, that thought was almost _fond._

Yet he owed it to Harry to show who he was. Harry, who had sat up here with him for countless hours, who had poured out every thought, every feeling, while Severus had just sat there and listened. Harry knew nothing about him, not even who he was on these trips to the roof.

But he was too scared. Despite the sentimental Gryffindorish feelings he hid - deep _deep _down - he feared. He feared for Harry's reations, of being rejected. Surely this could not continue once Harry knew that he was the hated potions bat of the dungeons.

Harry seemed to see through all of this, understandingly dismissing the topic. But Severus heard the barely concealed dissapointmentin the young man's voice. How could Harry, a mere child by looks, break through all of his defenses and masks, and manage to stir up so many dormant emotions within him?

Harry lifted his hand and brought it down on air, before moving and finding Severus' knee. He was invisible. How was Harry to know where he was? The thought sent a mess of emotions in a tangled up web through him, that he couldn't even begin to unravel. Damn that boy!

The rest of the evening was spent in silence. Harry seemed content to just lean back in his arms, but Severus had a lot of thinking to do. The cloudy sky grew darker, and with the night came even heavier clouds, rolling in quickly. Harry stood, and so did Severus. A hand splayed over his chest, and trailed upwards, giving Severus the time to back away should he so choose.

Severus stayed still.

And that hand found his jaw, and clothing shifted against clothing as Harry stood on tip-toe. And those full, pink lips met his, for a far too little amount of time. Harry had left before he could blink, and Severus reached a hand up to touch his own lips, impossibly warm from those brief seconds Harry's had brushed against them.

The skies opened and rain began to spatter down on the roof around him. He didn't move until well after he was quite thouroughly soaked. He went down to his rooms and dried himself with a towel, not bothering with magic. He had many things to think about.

...

He decided.

It was the very next day that found Severus pacing, invisible as always, on the roof, waiting for Harry to arrive.

_Harry, Harry, Harry..._ it had once aggravated him that the young man was always in his thoughts, even if it was just at the back of his mind. Now he had come to terms with it, but it still annoyed him, especially when there wasn't anything else to distract himself with. He could only wait and cover up his nervousness with movement.

A tousled head of black hair popped up over the side of the roof, and as soon as Harry was standing Severus wrapped him up in his arms. Harry returned it automatically. He pulled back slightly, holding Harry by the upper arms and drinking in his features, memorizing them. He would never be able to look him in the face again if this day went as he feared.

He gave Harry enough time to pull away, but he stayed still as Severus returned the gentle kiss from yesterday. A slight inhalation against his mouth and then they molded together, their forms meshing perfectly.

Breathing soon became an issue, but after refilling their lungs they came back together. Severus had to kiss him now, before he lost his nerve, and in case he never got another chance. That desperations and urgency showed in the new style they portrayed, with Harry returning the emotion with the same potency. He allowed himself, for a brief moment, to believe that Harry knew who he was kissing. That he continued to do so with no revulsion or hesitance.

He was the first to take another step - Severus' tongue darted out to taste the length of Harry's bottom lip, and felt the shudder coursing through the youth and the moan that followed. Neither was more dominant or submissive than the other, creating an equal understanding between them as both tounges tangled together.

As if on some que, they managed to draw apart at the same time, both breathing heavily. Severus took in Harry's flushed skin, reddened lips, and hair that was even worse off than before. He wondered when his fingers had threaded through the black locks, and when Harry had pulled him closer with his own hands.

A third time - for luck, he told himself; but in truth it was because he couldn't resist - his lips found Harry's, touching them lingeringly and then drawing away, in a perfect replica of the brushing of lips Harry had instigated the day before.

Reluctantly, Severus peeled himself away from him, and took a few paces back. A last look and then he turned around, drawing up his hood and taking off the charm. Harry could only see the back of his cloak. _Don't hate me..._ he pleaded internally, even as he tried to convince himself to turn around. He prepared himself for the rejection that would obviously follow the second Harry saw him.

He turned, pulling his hood down again in the same motion, standing there and waiting for the reation. Shock came first, and Harry studied him in the way Severus was now. The emotions slid by; shock, some unreadable emotion that involved the softening of his eyes, something like amusement, admiration, more of that stange emotion, and then bemusement, those well-kissed lips quirking up into a smile that held mostly the last emotion, but also that unidentifiable... thing - goddammit, what was it? - somehow all mixed up together.

Harry was not cruel, he hadn't spent almost an entire year with the youth to not know that. Harry was kind. But why would he be amused if he wasn't planning on throwing it back in his face? _What are you thinking, Harry...?_

"Well. That was a shock." Why did it sound like Harry was teasing him? What was going through that scarred skull of his? Harry took slow, purposeful steps towards him. Why couldn't he get to the point? Why draw out this torture? As he got closer, Severus was just filled with more regret. Why did he have to show himself again? They could have continued living peacefully with semi-regular meetings.

But the thing was, he'd still be living a lie. He'd feel like he was decieving Harry somehow, and Harry, kind, sweet Harry, didn't need someone lying and hiding who they really were. Harry deserved the best. Severus knew he was far from 'the best'. In fact, he was probably one of the worst. What had posessed him to show himself, anyway?

Harry was closer now, right in front of him. And in the second before Harry rose on tiptoe to press another soft kiss to his mouth, he saw the burning affection in the emerald eyes. His eyes closed, and when Harry drew away, he uttured the first word he had ever spoken to Harry up on the roof.

"Harry." His voice was hoarse with disbelief, and his black eyes opened to see the soft smile directed at him.

"Severus." Harry replied, probably just because he could. Severus found he quite liked the sound of his name on Harry's tongue. "I still love you. Nothing can change that. Not even knowing who you are."

How could he even love Severus? He'd had no idea, this entire time, that it was the dour potions professor he was leaning on, talking to. Harry had told him everything, and in return Severus had stayed silent. Severus vowed to himself that he would tell Harry about himself, too. Maybe not all at once, and maybe not soon, but he would.

Severus couldn't respond. He had never 'professed his love' for anyone. It sounded sappy and sentimental and like Gryffindor foolishness. On the other side, no one had ever said that they loved _him_. What was there to love? A greasy bat with sallow skin who rarely showed emotion. Yet, Harry...

Of course, The Golden Boy of Gryffindor was the exception to every rule, now wasn't he? Before the sentiment would have been of scorn and dirision, but now it was almost _fond._

He _had_ come a long way, hadn't he?

So, with a lack of anything to say, he kissed Harry once more, trying to convey the emotion he would never admit he didn't know how to put into words.

Hours later, they were in the same position they had taken up countless times before, with Harry pulled back against Severus' chest and Severus resting his chin lightly atop the messy black hair.

But this time, both men were visible.

It was astounding. Severus had hardly dared to hope this would be today's outcome. He had prepared himself for screaming, disgust, a quiet refusal, even just silence. But Harry actually accepting and loving him in return? That, he had tried not to dwell on. It would only make a rejection all the more terrible. And yet...

Yet, here they were.

Severus jumped slightly as their comfortable silence was broken suddenly by unexplained laughter on Harry's part. He had seen him laugh on more than one occasion, and the sound always caused this inane upturn of Severus' lips that made him glad only Harry could see him now. It wouldn't do for the rest of the world to see Severus Snape _smile_.The world may just go into cardiac arrest.

"It's no wonder!" Harry chuckled once he could talk through his laughter. His eyes were twinkling in a way that made Severus think Harry was spending too much time with the Headmaster. "I was wondering why you weren't being as cruel to me as usual in classes, and here's my answer."

Severus rolled his eyes. _Foolish Gryffindor._ He thought, though he was really wondering how a spy such as himself had managed to lose control in a noticable way in a public place.

"Yes, well, don't expect that to continue. I have a reputaion to uphold." He teased lightly. He had made it clear hours ago that even though he was in love - ugh, he hoped never to say _that_ out loud - he was still a very sarcastic and cynical man. Harry had already seemed to know when he was teasing and when he was not, for the young man burst into laughter once more. To his own astonishment, Severus began to laugh as well. Only Harry could do this to him, he decided.

It wasn't just the roof anymore. It was _their_ roof.

_Author's Note:_ So, reading back over this story, I came to realise how fluffy this actually is. I hope no one choked on it... might as well get a vaccum to suck up all those adorable little dust bunnies... oh, wait, they seem to like Snape. Maybe I'll leave them there for a little longer... *evil grin*

I was happy that no one thought it moved too fast, I just thought it was something I had to adress. Being a perfectionist, having OCD, and paranoia can make someone worry... also, I've noticed and had pointed out to me little grammatical and spelling issues, most of them probably due to my fingers hitting the keys faster than my brain can tell them where to move. Unless anyone has a real issue with it, I think it's staying the way it is, because I'm too lazy. However, if a Beta would like to step up and handle my stories, I'd be more than happy.

And now, there were a few ideas about having a third chapter where the school found out, or maybe having an epilogue of sorts. Seeing how this is my first story there will probably also be little compairison one-shots to go along with it and what not. I'm not sure about the third chapter thing, but if anyone wants me to do it I'd be glad to write it. Also, ideas or challenges are very welcome for other stories or Presence compairisons. The story, one-shot, whatever would of course, be dedicated to the person with the idea or challenge.

WIPs are my preferred style of writing. I usually have an idea in mind of where I want the story to go, a general plot, but I post chapter by chapter with long or short periods of inactivity between. Sometimes a bit of the plot will jump out at me and make the story go in a completely different direction, so even I have no idea how it will turn out. I hope to have a longer, chapter fic out there for everyone soon, but when I can't say. I'm still waiting for a nice plot to catch my interest.

Thanks for everything, you guys make my world go 'round. Reviews, Alerts, and Favorites are greatly appreciated. Thanks, especially if you read through this incredibly long author's note...

'Til next time! ~theslyknave


	3. Essence

_Author's Note:_ Here it is, world! The third - and probably final - chapter of my very first story. This has both a third chapter and an epilogue, but it is noticably smaller... funny how that works. I tried to keep it simple, but it all just came out, like it was waiting for me to type it.

Much thanks and credit goes to **Badbonita**, who gave me an excellent idea on how the school would find out about our favorite couple. I am shamelessly stealing it.

Also, I wanted to thank all of you reviewers, favoriters, and alert-ers for swamping my e-mail. I was - quite literally - drowning in love for the fic. I'm glad no one suffocated on the fluff. Enjoy!

_Disclaimer:_ Hmm? What? You think- _I_ wrote Harry Potter? It's okay. We'll get you help soon. Stay calm. Te nice big men with the nice long needles will be by to take you to the spongey room where you can look at all the pretty colors on the white walls. Just hold on.

**Essence**

In a lesser known and traversed section of Hogwarts castle, a lone figure strolled, taking long strides in the hopes of getting to his destination faster. He needed to get to his last class quickly, and he was taking what he hoped to be a short-cut. He had never really timed how long it took him to get to each class. He needed to get to the second floor for Transfiguration, but unfortunately, Divination was very high up. Why had he taken that class again?

Oh, right. Mum.

Either way, he was going to be late if he was walking any slower than he was now, which was as fast as he could go without breaking into a sprint. Slytherins could never look less than perfect.

He turned the corner, just happening to glance out a window emitting large rays of fading light. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have seen the thing that made him stop in his tracks, barely stopping himself from falling over at the sudden loss of velocity.

Two people were out on the roof adjacent to one of the towers he was currently in. He recognized them.

Professor Snape and Potter.

They seemed perfectly at ease with each other; The latter firmly ensconed in Snape's arms, leaning against him. Snape looked almost... pleasant. Snape leaned forward slightly to murmur something which caused Harry to throw back his head in mirth.

Now, if he had passed out at _that_, he wouldn't have seen the even more shocking thing to come.

Severus Snape, greasy bat of the dungeons, looked fondly at Harry Potter, The Chosen One, as well as Gryffindor's poster boy, and smiled! But that wasn't the most shocking, astoundingly. The man leaned forward and _kissed_ the still smiling lips. Dark eyes widened almost comically, and Blaise Zabini stumbled back a few steps. He had to go tell Drake and Theo.

...

Walking into dinner, Harry discovered that people were staring at him more than usual. He thought they'd gotten over that. Oh well, he thought. Probably just something in the Evening Prophet.

He sat down at the end of the table, near Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Up the table he could see Ron scoot further away from Harry, and Hermione sitting stock still. She had not spoken to him since... since he had told them, but she had done nothing negative either. Ron whispered something to her, and she shook her head lightly. Ron frowned and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her with him, further from Harry.

He took note of the silent Hall, and of the stares of his other dorm-mates. Dean had a contemplative frown on, Seamus' eyes kept flicking to the head table and back to Harry, and Neville's eyes were fixed on his plate, not eating or touching anything, merely looking confused.

He looked up at met Severus' eyes, a silent question passing between them.

One small mumble in the Great Hall started a tidal wave of exclaiming, guesturing, and questions. Harry caught his name and Snape's. Fingers pointed first at himself, then at the head table. Eyes followed every move both of them made. A feeling of dread entered the pit of Harry's stomach. Seamus spoke up first.

"Snape?" He asked incredulously.

Dean cut in before Harry could say anything. "Word leaked out that... well, that you and Snape are together." As though Harry needed clarification. "It came from Pansy Parkinson, I think, and they could just be starting the rumor for a laugh..."

But Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, and most looked shell shocked. The only ones with any amusement showing were the ones that were snickering at Harry's discomfort. There weren't many. Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy were having a serious discussion, while Blaise Zabini looked looked down at his food in much the same way as Neville, though without the confused look. His eyes seemed permenantly wide, as if he could not blink. Pansy Parkinson's eyes were gleaming as she gushed to her female friends, Millicent Bullstrode and Daphne Greengrass. Both looked bored, and Harry suspected Parkinson had been telling them the same story over and over.

"No, it's true." Harry said, refocusing on Dean. The puzzling frown returned, as if he was trying to figure Harry out. Seamus' eyes flickered again to Severus.

Suddenly, Harry's vision was filled with red, and feminine arms embraced him. They felt so much different, so much more delicate than Severus'.

"Ginny." He said, and she pulled away, beaming.

"I've always wanted a gay best friend!" She laughed and made herself more comfortable next to Harry.

This seemed to break up most of the tension between the four friends; Dean grinned, And Neville looked up with a shy smile. Seamus didn't know what to think.

"I'm fine with you being gay, but... Snape?" He asked again, seemingly dumbfounded.

Harry nodded. "We... bonded, I guess you could say." Harry said, grinning. "Though, I didn't exactly know who he was, at the time..."

Ginny looked captivated. "You'll have to tell us all about it- later."

Harry nodded. Ginny, at least, understood his need for privacy. Espeically when chatter had died down again in order to hear what Harry had to say. He was grateful. Though, his appetite had flown out the window. Instead he looked for reactions.

Luna Lovegood was eating serenely, her eyes fixed upon a random spot in the charmed ceiling. As if sensing him watching, she half-turned and smiled gently, before resuming her fixed staring. Most students were staring at him, occasionally mumbling something to their friends.

At the Head Table, McGonagal looked shocked for a few moments, then looked at Severus, then Harry, and smiled secretively about something. Flitwick was tittering happily, Hagrid looked bemused, Sprout looked like she always did- like she wanted to jump up and give the Earth a hug. And Dumbledore- his blue eyes were twinkling, looking at Harry with a bright beam on his face, and he winked.

He looked up the table at his fellow Gryffindors, and looked upon the disgusted face of Ron Weasley. A pang resounded deep within his chest. Hermione was turned away from him, and was shaking her head again at Ron, saying something. He could hear her voice, just not the words.

Ron's face turned red as he protested whatever she was saying, guesturing wildly to Harry and then to Snape, where his face took on a malicious, hateful look. Hermione leaned away, looked as if she was about to stand, but Ron grabbed her hand and kept her still, his argument growing louder. Harry's eyes were fixed on Hermione's hand, and the way it was turning red at her fingertips, and white around Ron's clenched fingers. Ron was gripping her hand with all of his strength, and as Harry knew from the time Ron had given him a bruise, that was a lot. He was crushing her hand.

Harry stood and stormed over, not aware that the sea of onlookers had gone silent as they waited to see what would happen.

"What is your problem!" Harry shouted, taking their hands and ripping Ron's off of Hermione's. She rubbed at her hand, tears in her eyes, and Ron jerked his back as though electricuted.

"Don't touch me, you fairy!"

Angry tears filled his eyes, and he struggled to swallow through the lump in his throat. "Can't you see you were hurting her?" Harry asked, getting in his face to get between his two friends. Ron jumped up to face Harry standing. His stance was defensive, and the anger in his eyes was hiding a hidden fear.

"First I find you're a perv, and then I find out you're with _him!_" Ron pointed up at Snape. "You better not let your _boyfriend_ see that you're trying to touch me, and get Dean, Seam, and Nev too! Then again, maybe he doesn't care. Maybe all he cares about is making you scream. Do you scream for him, Harry?" His malicious tirade stumbled to a false calm, belied by the ugly look in his eyes and on his face. "I bet that's all you're good for, to him. Just a good little fu-"

"Shut UP!" Harry screamed, and a few of the nearby plates and goblets shattered. A shard found it's way over and sliced open Ron's cheek- a few gritty peices _plink_ed off his glasses, and he looked down to see a large piece of glass embedded in his shoulder, but felt nothing. His glare refocused on Ron, who stepped back, as though finally realizing who he was dealing with.

"Don't even _presume_ to know anything about us! Know this, Ronald Weasley, the world keeps turning without _you_. You don't need to be my friend, in fact, I don't want you to be. But even if Hermione shares your opinion, what gives you the right to touch her that way? What posessed you to hurt her? The Ron I knew would never do that. But things change, eh? And apparently, you're still stuck behind and haven't realized that everyone has moved on without you. I actually feel sorry for you." Harry was relatively calm by the end of his tirade, staring down Ron. But the redhead wasn't done yet. The worst part was, Harry could see that Ron actually believed what was spewing from his mouth.

"I bet all he's told you are lies. And you probably poured out your soul to him- poor baby. He's just using you, like you used us-" He guestured to himself, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, "You probably jerked off to the thought of us changing in front of you. You just never told because you liked the view. You're a _freak._" He spat, unknowingly using the Dursley's favorite word. It was the last straw. Anything left of Harry's self control broke. Every single knife at the Gryffindor table rose as one, forming a large cluster, aimed at Ron.

Long-fingered hands gripped his shoulders. _Severus._ "Harry," His voice came, near his ear. "Drop the knives."

They quivered, but remained in the air. Ron stood stock-still, eyes wide on the gleaming silver knives.

"Harry. He doesn't deserve such a quick and easy exit." Severus' silky voice promised months of torture. They pointy untensils clattered as they hit the ground. Harry was glad for the next two years- as a professor, Severus could make Ron's life a living hell. Harry leaned back slightly on the man, drawing strength and comfort, before stepping away. The hall looked even more shell-shocked than before. He sought out Hemione's eyes, which were still leaking tears, holding the hand with a Ron-shaped bruise on it to her chest.

Severus lead Harry out, and the bushy haired girl followed. They could hear McGonagall yelling furiously. As soon as they were out of the Great Hall, Hermione began to sob, and she clutched Harry like he was a bouy in the sea.

"Oh god... oh god, Harry. Thank you." She sobbed, creating a wet mark on his shoulder. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know what to do, and if you weren't in classes you were always gone and I could never talk to you..."

"Is that the first time he's hurt you?" Harry asked, keeping her away at arm's length to inspect her, praying she would say yes. Severus was keeping his distance, understanding that the two friends needed a few minutes.

"No." She whispered, her breath coming out harsh and erratic from crying. Harry's eyes darkened. "He... squeezes my shoulder when he wants my attention." She said, Slipping her robe and shirt over her shoulder to show a fading handprint. She took a moment to control her breathing. "And... and my arm." She pulled up her sleeve. Handprints, handprints, handprints. Different shades, multiple colors, all in different stages of healing. All the same handprint.

"And then once." She said, her face blank, "Something set him off. He... He..." She cancelled a glamour and showed off another handprint, hard enough to bruise and break the skin, directly under her eye.

"Why, Harry?" She asked, sounded lost, and alone, and afraid, sounding younger than she had even in her first year. "Why would he do that? God," She sobbed, "Why didn't I tell anyone?"

Harry wrapped her up in his arms, shielding her from the world. "I don't know, Hermione. I don't know."

...

Ron got detention for the rest of his days at Hogwarts. The entire house of Gryffindor hated him for loosing them three hundred points, thus ruining their chances at winning the house cup. Hermione went to Madam Pomfrey, and with Harry's support, managed to tell the whole guesome tale. Pomfrey healed her bruises and made a schedule for Hermione to visit bi-weekly to come out of the shell she'd retreated into these past few weeks, and get over the physical abuse.

Madam Pomfrey called it therapy. Hermione called it 'Tea with Poppy'. She was hesitant to talk about it, but at least she was showing signs of returning to herself- a week ago Hermione had requested that Harry go study with her - OWLs were already over.

His dorm mates, sans Ron, who got a small room of his own - solitary confinement - had heard the whole thing, and assured Harry that they hadn't believed a word of what Ron said. In fact, Dean and Seamus announced that they were a couple. Harry and Neville shared a look that said, 'finally'.

The school soon got over Harry and Severus' relationship, and with Hufflepuff's win of the house cup, all the students of the school prepared to leave.

Almost all of them.

"Get up."

"No."

"I've let you have enough of a lie-in. It's almost noon, and the train will be leaving soon."

"I'm not leaving, remember?"

"Even so, don't you wish to send off your friends?"

"I did last night. Come lie down with me, Severus."

There was a sigh and a rustle as an outer cloak was abandoned, before the bed dipped down and there was warmth.

"Mmm..." Harry hummed as he snuggled into Severus' side.

"You are a strange creature." Severus said, shaking his head, but putting his arm around Harry.

"You know you love me." Harry murmured sleepily.

"That is true."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Harry extended his hand to rest above Severus' heart. He felt the thumping through to his hand.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Is it true that I don't have a heart?"

Harry snorted. "Of course you have a heart. You wouldn't be alive right now without one."

"Point noted."

The silence stretched on. Harry was content to bask in the heat radiating from Severus, in the comfort Severus' mere presence gave him.

"I was born to Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape." Severus stated quietly. Harry raised himself slightly and cracked open green eyes to peer at the man he was curled up against. "Well, I have to get started on telling my life's story, seeing as you've already gifted me with yours."

The green eyes shone. Severus knew that the 'pouring out your heart' comment from Ron had come a little too close for comfort. He knew how much this meant to Harry. He lowered himself back down, nestled between Severus' side, his arm, and the soft matress.

He let Severus' deep voice wash over him. "I was born to Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape..."

...

[The Epilogue : Nineteen Years Later]

"- And the wand movement is an arc to the right - smooth, not that sharp, Miss Finch-Fletchly - good. Left handed people, same to you, just to the left - that's right. Okay everyone, repeat after me: Expelliarmus!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" The entire class bellowed as one. There was a clattering and around three-fourths of the class' wands hit the floor.

"Great, now, everyone pick up your wands, and we'll try again-"

There sounded a great ringing through the rooms and corridors and across the grounds, and everyone scrambled to pack up.

A knock sounded on the already open door.

Green sought out black. Harry wondered how the man could be so imposing while looking amused, leaning against the doorframe with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest. He figured it was the robes.

Harry barely stopped himself from bounding over, contenting himself with crossing the room to his lover quickly to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Good afternoon." Harry said brightly.

"I must agree that it has gotten considerably better." Severus conceeded.

Harry's first year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins started filtering out of the classroom. One hung behind.

"Hey, Scorpius. Tell your dad his godfathers said hi."

"Will do." The carbon copy of Draco Malfoy replied, with a cheeky grin and a bow. "And- get a room, Uncle Harry, Uncle Sev."

"Of course." Severus replied, giving Harry a look that had his face blazing.

"It's professor Potter and professor Snape to you, Mister Malfoy!" Harry called after weakly.

"It's not class hours, is it Uncle Harry?" And the blonde menace dissappeared around the bend of the corridor.

Harry shook his head and pulled Severus back into his classroom. A long-fingered hand pulled the door shut behind them. "Now I understand why you just wanted to poison us and get it over with."

"Finally." The Slytherin smirked, and he swooped in to get a better kiss than the one recieved upon his arrival. The younger reveled in their contact, pressed up against the lean body and held there by potion-stained fingers.

"Mmm..." Harry smiled into the kiss. "I love you."

"And I, you." Severus agreed. "Now," He said, looking serious. "Do you want to see if we can make it to your rooms, or will we have to make use of this lovely desk?"

Harry smiled wickedly and guided Severus by the back of his head to his lips once more. Everything was perfect. His presence was here. But this time, he had substance, he was a definable person. _Severus._ And in essence, they were all each other needed.

_Author's Note: _Taa daa! I think it is finally complete! Be sure to tell me if it needs something else, I live to please! Anyways, you didn't think all that fluff was going to go unbalanced, did you? *wicked smirk* of course, it still ended with a little bit of fluff, and quite possibly a chiche, having all of the chapter titles in the last paragraph, but I liked it. Or, at least I do now. Years from now I'll look back and think - 'wow, I thought _this_ was good?' - or something. But- oh well. I hope everyone liked it!

Also, I'm still on the lookout for a nice beta. Most of my problem is that I'm too lazy to edit it myself, but... oh well.

Challenges are also very much appreciated. I have a few ideas for a story or two swirling around in this crazy brain o' mine, but having something set for me to accomplish would make me work towards it harder.

Have a happy Thanksgiving, to whoever celebrates it!


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